


silk cut

by blooddrool



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, post 160
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:56:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blooddrool/pseuds/blooddrool
Summary: “Could you quit?” Martin asks, and Jon twitches, cigarette burning between his fingers, “If you wanted to?”
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 15
Kudos: 118





	silk cut

Martin finds him late, late, late one night, standing just outside the front door and to the side, tall grasses brushing his calves. He should feel a little guilty about it, maybe, skulking out of bed to follow him, a good minute or two after Jon squirmed out of his arms — but, really, Jon’s the one who _skulked_ first, and they both know that Martin isn’t too keen on being alone right now.

The door creaks when he pulls it open, by design, he’s sure, but Jon doesn’t so much as blink, staring off into the nighttime nothing. It’s so quiet out here, Martin thinks, in the country. A soft and fragile silence. He doesn’t want to break it.

A cigarette burns between Jon’s fingers. It smolders when he brings it to his mouth, and when he exhales it’s through his nose, two smooth streams of smoke that remind Martin of an angry cartoon bull.

“Could you quit?” Martin asks, and Jon twitches, “If you wanted to?”

It’s a long, still moment before Jon answers. One of those nights, Martin thinks, and he wonders where it is that Jon’s gone.

“I’ve quit before,” Jon says eventually. He doesn’t sound particularly confident about it, but maybe that’s just part of the mood. Martin knows _he_ hasn’t been feeling particularly confident lately. About much of anything. But that’s– Well. After all they’ve been through, that’s just sort of alright.

Martin leans against the door frame, watching Jon in profile. “But could you again?” he asks. He’s not sure why, exactly, and it’s clear from the way Jon glances at him that he’s not either.

“I– I could,” Jon says, hesitant, “Probably? Do you want me to?”

Martin opens his mouth to say something– Something like _no, no Jon, you’re perfect and I want for nothing_ , probably, but he stops himself on the first syllable. Maybe a year or two ago, even a month, but not tonight.

“I… do, actually,” he admits, “You’re– Well, I don’t know if you know this, Jon, but you do tend more towards addiction than one might consider particularly _healthy_? And we’re trying for good things now, right?” Something in Jon’s mouth goes soft at that, and Martin can’t help but smile at him, “Cancer’s probably not too high on your list of concerns anymore — considering, you know, _everything_ — but it could be nice to worry about something… something really normal, for once?”

That, at least, gets him what could charitably be called a chuckle, smoke huffing out of Jon’s mouth from his last inhale — taken slowly and deliberately while Martin was talking about _quitting_ , which, _really_ — and he finally turns to look at Martin fully. There’s one less line in his forehead than Martin has seen in a… in a long time, and it takes his breath away.

“Alright,” Jon says, low and quiet, like an inevitability, “I’ll, ah… need you to pick up mints. Next time you go out?”

The sheepish turn in his tone makes Martin laugh; embarrassment has always looked very good on him. “I’ll go tomorrow. Just think about how much more kissable you’re going to be, all minty-fresh and smoke-free.”

Jon rolls his eyes, but there’s a fondness in it, right there in the corner of his mouth. “Let me finish this one?” he asks, cigarette still hanging loosely between his fingers.

“Sure, Jon,” Martin replies, “Just that one.”


End file.
